A Different Kind of Quiet
by KindleLyn
Summary: When someone starts targeting the members of Gibbs’ team, the former Lead Agent is drawn out of retirement to protect the only family he has left. Background Tiva, but this action/drama story involves the whole team and then some.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yikes...This is my first ever completed story with a real-live plot, and I am SO excited and yet so oddly reluctant to let it go out into the world. Oh well, I guess we all have to kick our babies out the door sometime. I would never have thought that my first plot-based NCIS fic would be set a bit over ten years beyond Season 7 (as this one is), but this little story just came along and was everything I'd been waiting for for so long and I couldn't exactly turn that away. **

**This fic _is_ complete - on my computer, that is - so you can count on a chapter update every other day until its over. It's 11 chapters and an epilogue long, and I'm posting the first two chapters today. **

**If you read, please, PLEASE review - your feedback is absolutely welcome and wanted, including thoughtful, constructive criticism and suggestions. **

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own NCIS.**

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_It's a different kind of quiet, _Special Agent Ziva DiNozzo thought to herself as she pushed another cutting board full of chopped squash into the waiting bowl, _the kind that comes from peace. _A past that had been spent between explosions and the tension that triggered them, horror and the stillness that followed, and the ever-present reticence of distrust and betrayal had done little to prepare her for the life she now enjoyed. She smiled to herself because, even years later, she still couldn't get past the novelty of it, and because this new definition of quiet seemed not to require the actual absence of sound.

Ziva paused her chopping for a moment to listen more carefully to the hesitant flow of piano notes drifting through the basement door. It was not hard for the Israeli woman to imagine the look of concentration that would be gracing her daughter's face as tiny fingers picked their way across the keys, nor the way the young girl's almost-black curls would be glowing gently in the soft light of the space that Tony liked to refer to as his "one-stop entertainment center." For her part, Ziva thought of the finished basement as a defensive stab at an unwelcome legacy; there would be no boats built in the DiNozzo basement.

Glancing over her counter-full of barely-prepared food, she hesitated only a moment before carefully laying down her chef's knife. She was almost to the basement stairs when the doorbell rang and considered ignoring the interruption, but finally sighed and turned back towards the front entrance. Pushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, she surreptitously glanced through one of the front windows as she crossed the small foyer. Narrowing her eyes at the dark-suited, dark-haired man standing on her porch, Ziva barely paused before opening the door.

Perhaps her instinct of suspicion was a little lax, but the former assassin's reaction time hadn't slowed at all. When the man on her doorstep changed from bored-looking-probable-sales-rep-of-some-kind to definite-armed-threat, Ziva launched herself into action without a second thought. Her first target was his gun, and a well-aimed kick quickly separated the man from his weapon. The expression on his face shifted rapidly from aggressive to startled and Ziva knew she had this one in the bag, but, just as she allowed a faint smirk to turn the corner of her mouth up, she heard something that almost broke her concentration. A window breaking, somewhere else in the house. This man that she was about to incapacitate had not come alone.

The knowledge that the threat was bigger than she had first realized drove her next few blows to her current assailant, and within thirty seconds she was lunging over his fallen body to recover his weapon. She charged back into the house without hesitation, which perhaps wasn't the most logical response to the situation at hand, but all she could think about was her daughter - _the daughter who wasn't supposed to suffer the way she had as a child_ - trapped in the basement. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Ziva could only hope that surprise would be on her side.

She encountered the intruders on the threshold of the kitchen and managed to get off two rounds before someone grabbed her wrist and forced the gun from her hand. Forfeiting the weapon, she used his grip on her to drag him off balance and throw him into the wall behind her. In the same moment, she pulled her ever-present knife from the sheath at her belt and prepared for the next attacker.

The next few moments were a blur of adrenaline and action. Her knife bit into flesh, more than once, and she felt the warmth of someone else's blood running down her fingers. She focused on that, and the pained grunts and gasps of the men whom she kicked, punched, and otherwise slammed herself into, so that she wouldn't focus on her own blood trickling down her face, or her own pain as she received her share of blows in return. She would've fought to the death to save her daughter, and her desperately violent attack might have been enough if her attackers hadn't already known her weakness.

The tear-filled, terrified cry of her daughter stopped Ziva in her tracks. "Mommy!" seven-year-old Adina DiNozzo sobbed repeatedly, only loud enough to be heard above the chaos once, but once was all it took. Ziva froze, her mother's eyes finding Adina at once, and her heart jumping into her throat when she saw the muzzle of a gun pressed against the little girl's head. The man holding Adina firmly by the arm did not have to speak to communicate his threat. The former assassin who was now nothing more or less than mother to her child did not resist as the men whom she had just been fighting forced her to her knees and roughly bound her hands behind her back.

"Adi," Ziva said, forcing her voice loud enough for Adina to hear. The girl's cries had dissolved into tears, but her dark emerald eyes stayed on her mother's face. "It's going to be okay," Ziva told her daughter, and herself, but before she could make it a promise, someone hit her hard from behind. As the world faded rapidly into darkness, she heard the renewed cries of her daughter, and she had just enough time to form one thought in her head.

_Tony, we need you._

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_**A/N: Roses are red, violets are blue. Reviews are AWESOME, and so are you (you'll be even more awesome if you review, though). :-)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Still don't own NCIS...**

** But I do own three OCs in this chapter, which I can only hope you enjoy as much as I do as the story goes on. I am sad that I didn't have reason or opportunity to tell you more about them.**

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Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was trying not to clock-watch, which was why he glanced down at his cell phone to check the time. Better to not be too obvious in front of his junior agents, although he doubted he was really fooling them. They were trained investigators, after all, and he had never been quite as good as Gibbs at keeping things inside.

"Going somewhere, Boss?" The casual question posed by his Senior Field Agent, Lena Sanders, confirmed DiNozzo's doubts.

"Not your business, Sanders," Tony snapped, half regretting it the moment the words had left his mouth. The question wasn't unfounded, and he usually enjoyed messing around with his team, but the prick of worry that had been bothering him without apparent reason for most of the afternoon had him on edge. He tried to focus on the case file in his hands, tried to forget that he hadn't seen or spoken to Ziva since 1130 that morning, but it was a lost cause. After a few moments of wasted effort, he dropped the file on his desk and left the bullpen without a single word or gesture to his agents.

"What's with the Boss today?" Agent Rob Bowman hissed to Lena as soon as Tony was out of earshot.

"Probably just wants to get home - Ziva and Adina have the whole afternoon off without him. I'd be impatient, too, especially since we're between cases." The response came not from Agent Sanders, but from Special Agent Heather Canton, newest member of the Major Case Response Team.

Lena shook her head. "There's more to it than that," she murmured, gazing absently at Tony's abandoned desk. "The Boss's gut is working overtime, I guess, though I haven't a clue what it'd be working on."

"Maybe he doesn't either," Bowman mused.

"Which would explain the temper," Lena replied, looking back to the papers on her desk. "Rob, how much can I pay you to finish this case file?"

Agent Bowman crossed the bullpen to examine the reports, photographs, and interrogation transcripts spread across Lena's desk. When he identified the case she was working on, he laughed out loud.

"The Garrett case?" he chuckled, leaning against the edge of Lena's desk and crossing his arms over his chest. "You can't pay me enough to even touch that thing again!"

Feeling Lena's eyes shifting in her direction and anticipating the all-too-predictable path of the conversation, Canton didn't wait to be asked. "Don't bother, Lena," she said, not looking up from her computer screen. "The answer is, 'No.'"

***

Tony hadn't had a plan in mind when he'd left the bullpen, but as soon as he was alone in the elevator he slammed down the emergency stop switch and yanked his cell phone free of it's holster. He tried his home number first, but, as had been the case almost an hour earlier, there was no answer. Cutting the voice mailbox message short, he dialed Ziva's cell phone next.

"C'mon, Ziva," he murmured into the phone as he listened to it ring. Maybe it was silly. Maybe he was over-reacting, but if he could just hear Ziva's voice reassuring him that she and Adina were okay then at least he would know. And it was always better to know that one had become an over-protective fool than to assume that the two most precious women in the world were safe.

Tony's left hand became a fist of its own accord when his call was once again diverted to voice mail. He punched the emergency switch, then the button that would take him to Abby's lab. To hell with what anyone else thought or said, he had to know that his wife and daughter were alright.

***

Cringing at the ear-splitting volume of Abby Scuito's newest favorite album, Tony hurried through the lab and Abby's office, interrupting the forensic scientist in the middle of running ballistics for another team's case.

"Abby!" he shouted, just as the black-haired woman fired another round from the shotgun she was holding. "Jesus!" Tony yelped, surprised that the report of the weapon could be heard at all above the blaring music. Seeing that Abby was lining up to fire again, Tony lurched forward and grabbed her by the arm.

"Abby!" he yelled again.

"Tony!" the goth shouted in return, a huge smile lighting her face. She put the shotgun down and reached into the pocket of her lab coat for the remote control to her stereo system. The silence that fell over the lab was almost disconcerting, but Abby didn't seem to notice, pulling her head set off and dragging Tony back through her office. "What can I do for you, Very Special Agent DiNozzo?"

"Abbs, I need you to trace Ziva's cell phone," Tony replied.

"What?" Abby said, whirling on Tony with her hands on her hips. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Why? Is she okay?"

"I don't know." Tony barely kept his voice level, so he took a careful breath before going on. "I've been trying to call her but she's not answering, and I just don't have a very good feeling about this!"

"Say no more, Tony," Abby interrupted, seeing that allowing him to wind up further would be a very bad idea. "I'll do it. It won't take five minutes." Without wasting another second, Abby attacked her keyboard and activated the appropriate program. Pretending to watch the screen carefully, she actually observed Tony out of the corner of her eye. He was pacing in front of her refrigerator, running a hand repeatedly through his already unruly hair, and breathing way too hard for someone doing nothing more than retracing the same ten feet of her floor over and over again. Abby had only a moment to wonder how long her friend had been bottling up his worry before the machine before her beeped, indicating that it had pin-pointed the location of ZIva's cell. Tony closed the distance between them quickly and examined the screen himself.

"That's our house," he said, his voice flat.

"Yes, it is," Abby confirmed, waiting to see what Tony would say next.

"Then why isn't she answering the phone, either phone?"

"Maybe she's in the shower," Abby suggested.

"What about when I called her an hour ago? She didn't answer then either."

"Listening to loud music," Abby tried, shrugging her shoulders defensively when the Italian shot her a glare. Tony stepped closer to the screen, staring at the blinking mark that indicated the location of Ziva's phone as if he expected it to offer the answers he needed, as if by looking hard enough he would see Ziva through the screen, home and safe and with their daughter.

"Tony?" Abby said softly, when she felt that the silence had dragged on long enough. Her voice seemed to shake DiNozzo out of his intense stare. He turned and made to march out the door, but Abby called after him. "Where are you going?"

Tony paused in the doorway to look back at the scientist. "There," he said, pointing back at the screen. "I have to see them for myself." Then he was out the door and gone, and Abby turned back to the still-blinking screen.

"Ziva, you had better be alright," she scolded, shaking her finger at the computer as if her Israeli friend were there inside it. "You had better be!"

***

Tony intended to stop at his desk only long enough to grab his badge and weapon from the top drawer and make an excuse to his sure-to-be-curious team, so he almost didn't answer the phone when it rang. He was on the verge of turning away when a gnawing sense of responsibility overrode his irritation and made him turn back and snatch the phone off it's hook.

"Agent DiNozzo," he growled into the mouthpiece, causing his agents to cringe on behalf of the unfortunate soul on the other end of the line. Lena and Rob were both brave enough to keep their eyes on the Boss's face, but only Lena noticed the way that Tony paled slightly as he listened to the caller.

"Address?" Tony demanded. He pulled a pad of paper across his desk and scribbled down whatever information the caller was giving him. Now even Rob could see the shift in DiNozzo's expression, although he wasn't any closer to guessing what it meant.

"Male or female?" Tony's next query caught the eavesdropping agents off-guard, and apparently startled the caller as well. "Are the bodies male or female?" Tony re-iterated with an intensity that was far beyond impatience. Lena thought she caught a wave of relief cross her boss's face in response to the reply. DiNozzo slammed the phone down then, hard enough that he thought he might have broken it, but he didn't waste time checking.

"Gear up," he said, already heading for the elevator. He pushed the piece of paper on which he'd copied the address onto Lena's desk as he walked by. "Take the truck. I'll meet you there."

Bowman stopped halfway to leaping after DiNozzo's flight to the elevator, and exchanged a quick glance of surprise with Lena as the elevator doors shut between them and their Boss.

"That's different," Agent Canton commented into the awkward silence that followed Tony's departure. "Where are we going?"

Lena, who was standing behind her desk looking at Tony's phone with suspicion, reached for the paper DiNozzo had given her and held it before her eyes.

"Oh my God," she muttered, when she recognized the address.

"What, Sanders?" Rob demanded, taking a few steps towards Lena, ready to grab the paper out of her hand if she didn't reply.

"This is Tony and Ziva's address," she said.

The useless scrap of paper, bearing information that they were too familiar with, slipped through her numb fingers and fell to the floor unnoticed.

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**A/N: Now, pretty-please click the little old review button and tell me what you think. Do I need to put a cherry on top?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much to those who took the time to review the start of this story...I thrive on the knowledge that people are enjoying my stuff!**

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**He managed to hold himself together long enough to exchange pleasantries with the metro detectives that were parked in his driveway. "My team will be here in five_," _he heard himself say. "Please report to them." Something about that didn't sound quite right; since when did he say _please_ to cops? But he'd already passed the detectives by, and he certainly wasn't going to risk turning back.

The door was ajar, which he tried not to mind, but it was hard to think of the house as not _his house_, but as a crime scene. It was _not _hard, however, to imagine what had happened inside. In the eyes of Special Agent, husband, and father Anthony DiNozzo, the picture was all too vivid.

DiNozzo was turned away from the door when Sanders, Bowman, and Canton entered the house. The light of the late afternoon sun blazed orange across the curve of his back as he crouched over something the other agents couldn't see. They expected him to notice their presence, but he showed no sign of awareness, or of addressing them. Lena stepped forward hesitantly, opening her mouth, then quickly swallowing the words she'd been about to say. Just as she was about to try again, Tony spoke.

"Sanders, you're in charge. Don't waste time, we need this scene processed fast." He spoke without looking up, without shifting his position at all, an uncharacteristic stillness that made his agents uneasy. He did, however, look up when he noticed that his team had not moved from their positions. "What?" he challenged, straightening his body up as he turned to glare at them.

"Were they here, boss?" Lena asked.

"You tell me, Sanders," Tony half-shouted, but the anger in his voice was transparent and thin. He pointed across the room. "Ziva's cell phone," he said, "and her knife." Sanders followed his second gesture to the blood-stained knife that was only feet from where they stood, swallowing hard. "And I bet we find her bullets in those bastards. Ziva and Adina were here, and now they're not, so process this scene goddammit, and call me when you're on your way back."

"Where are you going, boss?" Lena called after Tony as he marched for the door.

"Office," he replied. "To start compiling a list of suspects."

"As in people who have a grudge against you and/or Ziva?" Bowman asked. "Boss, that list could be miles long."

"Yeah, Bowman," Tony shouted back, not slowing his departure. "I realize that."

***

He almost called a hundred different times between the crime scene and the Navy Yard, but he made himself wait, because this wasn't the sort of conversation one should have while driving. This wasn't really the sort of mood one should be in while driving either - the frantic, murderously angry, but scared stiff sort of mood - but there was nothing he could do about that.

The number was dialed and the call sent even before the engine of the car had fully stopped, and then Tony waited, trying not to hold his breath, while one ring followed another for what seemed to be far too long. Each passing second made him more impatient, and he was only an instant away from snapping the phone shut and leaping from the car when the answer he had been wishing for came.

"What, DiNozzo?" The voice on the other end was sharp, irritated; Tony had called only last week, and Gibbs liked to pretend that he didn't need his former team. His tone softened, however, when Agent DiNozzo did not reply.

"Tony?" Gibbs asked, shifting rapidly from annoyance to concern.

"Boss, I need you to come to D.C.," Tony managed to say. The first word out of his mouth had Gibbs even more on edge. Tony never called him 'boss' anymore.

"When?" Gibbs asked.

"Now," Tony replied.

"I'm on my way," Gibbs answered, but he didn't hang up, and neither did DiNozzo.

"What's going on, Tony?" Gibbs asked, when the silence between them had stretched on for several moments.

"Ziva and Adi are missing," Tony forced himself to say, leaning forward to press his forehead into the steering wheel as though the pressure would help to control his panic. He swallowed hard before going on. "And there are two dead men in our house." Gibbs didn't respond right away, so Tony continued on desperately.

"I need you, boss," he rasped into the phone. "I can't do this myself."

"I'm on my way, Tony," Gibbs repeated at last, pausing before adding, "Hold it together until I get there, got it?"

"Got it, boss," Tony confirmed, trying to give the words the same sharp enthusiasm they had once held, but failing dismally.

"Good boy," Gibbs murmured.

The call ended, but it took a full minute for Agent DiNozzo to drag himself out of the car.

***

"Momma."

The familiar voice was the first thing that penetrated the darkness in her mind. Ziva tried to grab on to it, she tried to follow it back to the surface, but the sound faded and slipped through her thoughts like silk ribbons, and she couldn't remember why she had reached for it in the first place.

"Momma."

Ziva's hands twitched after the intrusion this time, and she felt the dull bite of pain at her wrists. A soft groan crawled up her throat and she twisted in her partial consciousness.

"Adi?" she murmured.

"Momma!" The sudden urgency in her daughter's voice, in addition to the movement of the small girl shifting against her side, accelerated Ziva's return to awareness. Her eyes flew open, and she turned her head to the right to see Adi curled awkwardly against her, wide green eyes watching her attentively.

"Adi, are you hurt?" Ziva asked, simultaneously absorbing their situation as quickly as she could. Her own hands were bound behind her back, tightly, and around a thick concrete post that ran floor to ceiling behind her. She was sitting against the pole, her legs stretching in front of her across the dull grey carpet. Beside her, Adi's arms were also tied around the pole, but the girl was facing the pole, allowing her shorter arms to stretch more easily around it. Ziva's immediate scan of their surroundings revealed no one else in the room.

Adi shook her head in response to her mother's question. "Not hurt," she said.

"It's going to be okay, my love," Ziva assured her.

Adi just nodded in response, but Ziva could still see doubt lurking in her daughter's eyes. The Israeli's heart twisted painfully in pride at her daughter putting on a brave face, placing her faith utterly in her mother's words, and fighting back her fear.

"Adi, what happened?" Ziva asked.

Adi drew a deep breath that sounded halfway like a sob. "I was playing the piano..." she began, her voice trembling.

"Adi-love," Ziva interrupted her gently. "What happened after they hit me?"

Again, a long, shaky breath preceded the child's response. "We got in a van," she replied. "We drove."

"Good girl," Ziva said. "How long were we in the van?"

Adi closed her eyes for a moment, and Ziva could tell from the way the little girl scrunched her nose that she was trying to remember. "An hour," she answered. "I could see the clock in the van."

"What else did you see?" Ziva prompted.

"We drove West," Adi continued, her voice growing stronger as she gained confidence, "into the sun."

"Bravo, my love," Ziva said. "You're my brave girl. Did the men in the van talk to each other?"

Adi nodded.

"What did they say?"

Adi drew in another tremulous breath. "They said that if I didn't stop crying I would never see my Daddy again." Tears were filling Adi's eyes even as she said it, and she buried her head into Ziva's shoulder.

"Shh, Adi-love, it's going to be alright," Ziva whispered to her, her hands fighting helplessly against her binds, longing to touch her daughter's face. "Daddy's going to find us in no time," Ziva promised. "The bad guys don't know that, though." In response, Adi nodded against Ziva's side.

"Did the bad guys say anything else?" Ziva asked, not wanting to push her daughter any further, but also knowing how valuable every piece of information could potentially be. Before Adi could respond, however, Ziva heard the thunder of steps descending stairs, coming closer. Someone was headed in their direction.

Pulling her legs under her quickly, Ziva managed to push herself to her feet just as a door to her left swung open and two dark-haired men entered the room. Fighting the nausea and dizziness caused by the sudden movement, Ziva could barely do more than register the fact that the men came straight for her and Adi, one of them grabbing Ziva around the waist from behind and the other reaching for Adi. Ziva struggled futilely as the the other man cut Adi's hands loose.

"Hey!" Ziva yelled. "Where are you taking her?"

"In the back room," the man restraining her said, not in answer to her question but an instruction to the man whose hand was closed firmly around Adi's upper arm. As the apparently subordinate man pulled Adi away, the one who had spoken pulled his arms from around Ziva's body and stepped away - careful to move beyond the reach of Ziva's legs.

"Momma!" Adi cried out.

Ziva spun herself around the pole to face Adi. "It's going to be okay, Adi-love," she managed to reiterate before her daughter was pushed into the next room and the door closed between them. For a moment, Ziva stared at the closed door, and then she turned her eyes to the man who was still watching her. Hatred burned painfully in her chest, and she yanked at her binds again, not surprised to feel a trickle of blood start down the side of her hands as a result.

"Mother bear," the man before her said softly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her, "perhaps you shouldn't have been asking your cub such _foolish _questions."

"Who are you?" Ziva growled.

His mouth curled into a wide smile, and he thought for a moment before answering. "I'm Chris." Ziva jerked her arms again, almost relishing the pain it caused at her wrists; it was a sorry substitute for the pain she wanted to inflict on him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Just the money I'll get for completing this job," he grinned, taking a few casual steps to the side and leaning against the wall. "And thanks to you there are two less men to split the pay out."

"What will it take to let my daughter go?" Ziva questioned. She couldn't not ask. She expected him to laugh, but instead he pushed off the wall, studying her carefully.

"If you just stay quiet and behave yourself, maybe she can go free when this is over," Chris said.

Ziva's eyes scrutinized him for a moment before she spat, "You're a terrible liar, you scum bag."

Chris laughed, which only made the fury inside her burn white-hotter. "Well I had to try, right?"

At that moment, the other man emerged from the room to which he had taken Adi, closing the door firmly behind himself. He nodded to Chris shortly, and passed in front of him, but well out of reach of Ziva, on his way to the stairs. Chris patted him on the shoulder as he went, but didn't yet take his eyes off Ziva.

"Well, Ziva," he said after a moment, her unfamiliar name sticking on his tongue. "Have a good night."

"Who's paying you for this?" Ziva called, but he had already started for the stairs, and he did not stop or even hesitate. He closed the door behind him, and then she heard his feet ascending the stairs rapidly.

Angrily, she gave her wrist yet another punishing yank, before turning herself to face the other door again - the door which separated her from her daughter. Leaning her shoulder blades against the pole behind her she pulled at the binds on her wrists until the pain made her knees weak, but she didn't allow herself to cry out, whether from anger or pain or fear. She would not give Adi any more reason to be afraid.

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**A/N: I heard that every time someone leaves a review, a fairy is born...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who set themselves up with a story alert! Also, thank you to my anonymous reviewers, since I have no way of responding to you all individually. :-(**

**Enjoy! :-)

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By the time the sun came up the next morning, the Major Case Response Team was waist-deep in old case files. With nothing much to go on by way of evidence yet, the team had plunged into the list of potential suspects with a hope that was fading fast, its last threads sustained only by their sense of desperation. They had split the list into three categories - people with grudges against Tony, people with grudges against Ziva, and people with grudges against them both. Since they were lacking any files on Ziva's years with Mossad, most of her stack was from cases she had worked since leaving the MCRT and taking on her role as leader of a team specializing in counter-terrorism. Tony had gratefully passed that section of the list onto Ziva's two junior agents - both of whom had been with her for over three years - and they too had been working through the night.

Each of the agents, with the notable exception of Tony, had taken at least an hour to catch a little sleep, but as morning began to wither towards afternoon, they had all been working steadily for several hours. Lena glanced over at DiNozzo carefully. She wasn't blind to the exhaustion written in the lines his face, and she was starting to worry about him. She wanted to suggest that he take a break, but was wary of his reaction to such a comment, rightfully fearing that it would only anger him. Her lips tightened, and she forgot to look away fast enough. When Tony turned her direction and caught her staring, she didn't bother to pretend that she hadn't been - Tony wouldn't have bought it anyway.

She held his eyes for a long, pointed moment before turning back to her work, and, to her surprise, Tony seemed to get her message to some degree. With a sigh, he pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the elevator.

"I'll be in the lab," he called back over his shoulder as he left.

Lena couldn't bring herself to smile, but she did feel a small twinge of satisfaction - whether or not Abby had something yet, she and Tony had a relationship that predated even Tony and Ziva's. If anyone could comfort Tony or convince him to take a half hour to rest, it was the energetic forensic scientist.

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"This is hopeless!" Fifteen minutes later, Agent Canton's sudden comment interrupted Lena in the middle of skimming the file of a Marine who had been arrested by the MCRT for killing his wife. Her gaze shifted to the younger agent, who looked just as exhausted as Tony had.

"Right now, Canton, it's all we have," Lena said quietly.

"Then we have nothing!" Canton replied. "As much as we hate to admit it. We've been looking through these files for more than twelve hours, and we've found nothing!"

Lena stood up, which caused Rob to drop all pretenses and watch openly as Lena crossed the bullpen and leaned against Heather's desk.

"If you have a better idea, Agent Canton, we'd be happy to hear it," Lena hissed. "Or would you like to just call it quits. I mean, its only the Boss's wife and daughter we're talking about here...no big deal."

Canton swallowed hard, her mouth opening as if she was about to speak, and then shutting quickly. Lena just glared at her, and the tension might have dragged on for several moments had they not been interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Lena spun around abruptly, irritation welling helplessly in her chest and a few biting words at the tip of her tongue. When her eyes caught the figure of the silver-haired, blue-eyed former Special Agent Gibbs, however, her annoyance dissolved rapidly in a wave of shock.

"Gibbs," she managed to say, not noticing the looks of surprise and curiosity that flashed across Heather and Rob's faces.

"Sanders," Gibbs replied.

"Tony didn't mention that you were coming," Lena offered awkwardly, pushing her hands into the pockets of her pants.

"Where is Tony?" Gibbs asked, not bothering to respond to Lena's comment.

"Abby's lab," Lena replied.

Gibbs nodded, and without another word he brushed past her and left the bull pen. Lena, Canton, and Sanders silently watched him disappear behind the stairs, remaining quiet for a few moments after he had gone.

"The legendary Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Rob murmured, once he was sure that Gibbs was out of earshot.

"In the flesh," Lena replied, crossing her arms across her chest as she returned to her desk. "I should have known Tony would call him."

"He doesn't trust us?" Canton asked, all thought of the tension between them erased by Gibbs' arrival.

"He doesn't trust himself," Lena answered.

"The Boss always trusts his gut," Canton argued. Lena's eyes fixed on Heather's face, but her expression was soft now, and thoughtful.

"Heather, you've got a lot to learn." Lena brushed her fingers across her keyboard to re-awaken her computer screen. After a few moments silence, she noticed that Rob and Heather hadn't returned to work yet. "Those two are going to be storming up here within the next thirty minutes," she said, not looking up from her screen, "and if you think the Boss is intense, this is going to be like Boss times ten. I'd get back into those case files, if I was you."

Rob fell back to his computer without hesitation, but Lena could feel Heather looking at her still.

"Problem, Canton?" Lena asked mildly.

"Just...Lena, you know I'd never give up on this..." Heather replied.

"I know," Lena answered quickly. She looked up to catch Heather's eye. "I know."

Heather nodded once, and then they both turned back to their screens with renewed determination.

* * *

The first thing Gibbs noticed when he stepped out of the elevator was quiet. Even after all the years he'd spent away, the lack of pounding music emanating from Abby's lab still seemed to set his hair a little on edge. He hurried the short, still familiar distance, and was surprised to find himself confronted with a shut door and a sign hand-written on a sheet of printer paper. The word 'QUIET' had been hastily written in spiky capital letters that could only have been Abby's, so Gibbs opened the door very slowly and slipped inside without making a sound.

Either Abby's hearing or her sense of clairvoyance must have improved though, because the instant he turned away from the door he found himself enveloped in her arms. He returned the embrace without hesitation, relishing the feel of the woman he thought of as a daughter held close against his chest.

"Gibbs!" Abby somehow managed to convey all her exuberance and joy and underlying worry in a soft, but intense, whisper. "I'm so glad your here! Tony's freaking out, and driving himself insane trying to act tough in front of his team, and the evidence from Tony and Ziva's house just bites, and we haven't even IDd the dead guys yet..."

"Abbs," Gibbs cut her off, matching her soft voice. "Why are we whispering?"

In response, Abby pointed into the next room. Through the plate glass door, Gibbs could see Tony curled up on Abby's futon, sleeping fitfully with a blanket half-wrapped around his body.

"He _needs_ at least a little sleep, Gibbs."

"Doesn't look very peaceful," Gibbs commented, as Tony's body twisted violently for a moment before becoming still again.

"It's better than nothing," Abby argued.

"Alright," Gibbs agreed. "Why don't you show me what you've got so far before I wake him up then?"

"I thought you'd never ask, oh Great One," Abby smiled, grabbing Gibbs' hand and dragging him towards her computers.

"We've got confirmation that Ziva did, in fact, kill the dead guys. The bullets matched a weapon recovered at the scene that, though it didn't belong to her, was covered in her fingerprints. Not that there was really much doubt of that, though - I mean, the shots were classic Ziva and why would the kidnappers have killed two of their own..."

"Abbs!" Gibbs did his best to growl in a whisper. Some things never changed.

"Sorry," Abby apologized quickly before going on. "We've got Ziva's knife, with only her prints on it and the blood of three different people on the blade - none of which match the blood of the dead guys."

"She went down fighting," Gibbs murmured, picking up the bag containing the knife and eyeing the weapon intently.

"You betcha," Abby replied. "Other than that, we've got signs of a struggle all over the kitchen. I've distinguished the blood of six different people at the scene."

"Two dead guys," Gibbs offered, "Three that were wounded with the knife..."

"And Ziva's" Abby finished, "but not a major amount. And there was no blood at the scene that matched Adi's."

"I guess that's one thing to be grateful for," Gibbs sighed, placing Ziva's knife back on the table.

"The glass door at the back of the house was broken from the outside, so we're guessing that was the point of entry for most of the kidnappers," Abby went on, "but there were also some signs of struggle on the front porch."

"A distraction," Gibbs said. "One person occupies Ziva at the front door while the others break in the back - and we know there were at least five men at the scene. Whoever did this knew enough to send a lot of muscle after a target like Ziva." He paused for a moment, then added. "What else, Abby?"

"Unfortunately, that's about it," Abby frowned. "These must have been pros, Gibbs. They didn't leave any prints anywhere. And DNA identification has come a long way since you retired, but it's still mostly useful for matching, not making IDs."

"They left two dead bodies, Abby," Gibbs reminded her.

"I know!" Abby replied, "And I'm running the prints now, but you know these things take time! I'm sure we'll get a match, soon," she added, when Gibbs glared at her. "Actually, I was hoping that we'd get the match right when you got here - you know how you used to have that effect on my machines - but no such luck, yet. You must be losing your touch."

"I'm not losing my touch," Gibbs said. "I can't afford to be right now."

Hearing the hint of doubt in Gibbs' voice, Abby took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "We'll find them, Gibbs," she promised. "This isn't going to be like Shannon and Kelly." The sad smile that crossed Gibbs' face told Abby that she had read him perfectly. He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, then released her hand and headed for her office.

* * *

Gibbs wasn't altogether surprised to see Tony's green eyes fixed on him from the moment he crossed through the door to Abby's office. He crossed to the futon, leaned against the wall beside it and eased himself down next to Tony's head. The younger man's eyes followed every move intently.

"Not sleeping, I take it," Gibbs murmured.

"Getting Abby off my back," Tony replied. "Hopefully Sanders, too." Gibbs reached out and brushed his hand through Tony's hair gently, letting the gesture say the things he still had trouble vocalizing. When Gibbs drew his hand away, Tony struggled upright, fighting off the twisted blanket that was wrapped around him. The sleep had been faked, but the restlessness was very real.

"Abby filled me in on what we've got so far," Gibbs said, unnecessarily. Tony nodded. "What's your team up to?"

"My team, myself, and Ziva's team have been trawling through old case files for the last 18 hours or so, trying to find a possible suspect that would have reason or opportunity to seek revenge now." He sighed. "It's a long list."

"I bet," Gibbs replied.

"Its all we've really got to go on right now...until we get the IDs on those bodies."

"We'll get them," Gibbs said.

"Boss?" Tony said quietly, glancing up at Gibbs' face.

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"

"Thanks for coming."

"Nothing could have kept me away, Tony," Gibbs said, laying a comforting hand on Tony's shoulder. "Nothing."

* * *

**A/N: Yay for Gibbs! **

**Please take the time to drop a review in my box - it'll make my day! I'm curious to know what ya'll think of the Gibbs & Abby scene...on the one hand, I thought it was a little repetitive to have her tell him about what happened with Ziva (after all, I already showed you what happened). On the other hand, I couldn't bear to get rid of or shorten it because I love Abby too much to cut her off...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Major thank yous to everyone who reviewed and set themselves up with a story alert after the last chapter! I made the most ridiculous mistake at work on Monday and was just sick to my stomach all afternoon thinking about it (because us introverts tend to internalize things like that) so it was amazing to be able to come home to an inbox full of positives! It made me feel a whole lot better...**

**Enjoy! :-)

* * *

**Tony and Gibbs were in the elevator when Tony's phone rang. He answered with his typically brusque, "DiNozzo," and listened for only a moment before adding. "We'll be right there." Snapping the phone shut, Tony punched a different button on the elevator control panel and Gibbs, noting the number he'd pressed, let out a heavy sigh.

"Didn't think he'd get to us so quickly," Gibbs commented.

Tony just shrugged, but Gibbs read the defensiveness in the younger man's body language as he leaned back against the elevator wall, hands shoved into his pockets and darkness spreading rapidly across his eyes. Tony was already preparing for battle, and Gibbs wasn't sure if that was the best strategy for the upcoming encounter, but he was sure that they had the upper hand either way. That was the advantage of having little to lose, lots of courage, and the loyalty of a team that stretched beyond the reaches of just the bullpen.

The elevator doors opened and Tony led the way out, crossing in front of MTAC and barging into the Director's office with a dismissive wave at the Director's assistant. Gibbs tossed the annoyed woman a half-hearted grin and a shrug of his shoulders, but he didn't think it made her feel any better.

"Agent DiNozzo," Director Sullivan said dryly, obviously unsurprised at the manner in which Tony had entered his office. It almost made Gibbs smile, thinking of how much like himself DiNozzo had become - in some ways. The ways that made him proud. "And retired Special Agent Gibbs," the Director added, as Gibbs took up a position by Tony's shoulder.

"Somehow," the Director continued, "I was not as surprised as one might have thought when Security called me to inform me of your arrival, retired Agent Gibbs."

"What's your point, Director?" Tony interrupted. "Because if you don't have one, we have a situation that requires our attention." Sullivan leaned back in his chair, surveying Tony critically across his desk.

"I don't think you should be working this case," the Director said.

"Not a chance," Tony growled in response. The Director raised an eyebrow at the blatant disrespect, but Tony's expression showed not a single glimmer of remorse or the slightest indication that he would back down.

"Investigations should be run by Agents who can keep their minds clear, you know that. Anger, emotion - distraction of any kind - and you miss things."

"I am not about to sit on the sidelines while my wife and daughter are missing," Tony almost shouted.

"And you trust yourself, Agent DiNozzo, to do your best work - the kind of work that will bring Ziva and Adina home safely - when you're scared out of your mind that they won't?" Director Sullivan could see Tony's jaw working furiously, but the Lead Agent did not have a ready response for that, which Sullivan took as confirmation that he had hit his target. His eyes shifted to Gibbs.

"Of course you don't," he said. "Why else would you have called in your Boss?"

"And I am more than happy to help," Gibbs interjected.

"Of course you are," Sullivan said. "I just wonder if you're really any more objective than DiNozzo." Silence stretched after that for a long moment in which Sullivan weighed his next words carefully. His eyes traveled over the two men standing before him and he was struck by the similarity in their posture, and in the mulish expressions on each of their faces.

"Thank the Lord I only have to deal with one of you _every_ day," the Director muttered. Seeing that Tony was about to interrupt, Sullivan waved his hand sharply at the younger man to cut him off.

"Tony, I don't like it," Director Sullivan continued. "I don't like having you on this case, and I don't like Gibbs working it, either, but Ziva and Adina are your family. I'm not stupid enough to think that I can keep you away, especially when my forensic scientist and medical examiner are unquestionably in your court. Do what you think is best, Agent DiNozzo, just know that you do so against my advice."

"Acknowledged, Director," Tony answered, lingering irritation clear in his voice. The Italian spun on his heel and made for the door, Gibbs following closely.

"Gibbs," Sullivan called before they could make it out the door, "a moment please." DiNozzo and Gibbs paused at the door for a half-second before Gibbs pushed Tony on out, closing the door behind him and turning to face the Director again.

"Director," the retired agent said, taking a few steps closer to Sullivan's desk before planting himself.

After a small hesitation, Sullivan pushed himself to his feet and walked around his desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped a few feet from Gibbs. "You had better know what the Hell you're dealing with here, retired Agent Gibbs."

"I know," Gibbs assured him.

"From what I've read of your record, I'm guessing that you do, which is why I'm not locking DiNozzo in Interrogation until this is over. Although I'm of half a mind to lock both of you in there for the very same God damn reason."

"My mind is clear, Director," Gibbs said. "I promise you that."

Sullivan sighed. "His isn't," he said, pointing towards the door for emphasis, "so you'd better be prepared to keep him from getting himself or his family killed."

"I am," Gibbs said.

The Director uncrossed his arms. "I hope you're as good as they say you are, Gibbs. I'm not ready to lose two of my best agents."

Gibbs just nodded once, then turned and headed for the door. Director Sullivan let him go.

* * *

Still feeling the residual aggravation of his conversation with the Director, and the added resentment of the fact that Sullivan was now probably talking about him behind his back, Tony blew into the bullpen with an intensity that made his agents hesitate before lifting their eyes from their computer screens. Forcing himself to stop when he reached his desk, Tony's hand landed on its surface a little harder than he'd intended, but he didn't pause to consider that. Turning to face the center of the bullpen, he clenched his fingers over the desk's edge and growled at his agents.

"Tell me we have something."

"We don't," Lena said softly, raising her eyes at the last moment to catch Tony's face.

"Not for lack of trying," Bowman blurted out, diverting Tony's glare to himself, and immediately regretting his instinctual urge to defend the innocent. He and Lena were both innocent, but she was a lot more likely to come out of a skirmish with the Boss unscathed; it was a talent of hers.

"Glad to hear you're _trying_, Bowman," Tony said caustically. "Because I'm sure the dirt bags will send my wife and daughter back if we just _try _ hard enough."

"Boss," Lena said, pulling DiNozzo's attention back to herself, "We've eliminated all the potentials we came across, and Ziva's team went out to check into a lead based on a recent case of theirs, but it's a huge long shot. Our best bet is gonna have to be the IDs of our dead guys."

"You may have noticed we don't have IDs on our dead guys yet, Sanders," Tony spat.

"I know that, boss..." Lena began, but before she could finish she was interrupted by Gibbs. The retired agent was resting his arms over the partition behind Bowman's desk and cleared his throat loudly. Agent Bowman startled so badly he almost fell out of his chair, but Gibbs didn't seem to notice.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly. "Get the car."

Tony didn't respond right away, and, for what seemed to be a very long moment, the junior agents almost thought that he was going to start shouting. The moment passed, however, and Tony stalked to the other side of his desk to collect his gun, badge and keys before heading for the elevator. He didn't say a word, and Gibbs didn't even glance in his direction as he departed, keeping his ice-blue eyes focused on the other agents as they stared after their boss. When the elevator doors slid shut, all three pairs of eyes shifted almost comically to Gibbs.

"Bowman," Gibbs barked.

"Boss!" Bowman said, snapping to attention in his chair.

"I'm not your boss," Gibbs said.

"Sor...yes. Gibbs," Rob replied. Gibbs smirked at the stifled apology.

"DiNozzo told me you were a Marine, Agent," Gibbs said, glaring hard at the young Agent. Much to the older man's satisfaction, Bowman seemed to grow under the glare, instantly recognizing and thriving on the familiar pressure. The response that followed was a somewhat redundant confirmation.

"I am, sir," Bowman acknowledged.

"Just making sure," Gibbs smirked. "I've never seen a Marine spook so easy." Without waiting for Bowman to think of a response to that, Gibbs turned to Lena. "Keep working. Call DiNozzo if you find anything."

"Where are you going?" Lena asked, before Gibbs had even taken two steps towards the elevator.

"The crime scene," Gibbs called back over his shoulder, and, after a moment's pause at the elevator doors, he was gone.

Lena twisted in her chair to face the bullpen, but the thought that was running through her mind was promptly knocked off track when she caught sight of Rob's bewildered, deflated expression. Unable to help herself, she burst out laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" Rob asked.

"You, Rob," Lena said, between giggles. The momentary mirth was such a relief from the stress and worry and pressure that she could hardly restrain herself. "You look like Gibbs just kicked your puppy."

Rob threw a glance at Heather, only to see her smiling as well. "It's true, Rob," Heather said, amusement filling her voice. "I've never seen you look so...shattered." At this, both she and Lena burst into a second round of laughter.

"Fine," Rob said, turning back to his computer screen, "you two go right ahead and entertain yourselves with my pain."

"C'mon, Robby, laugh a little - it'll do you good," Lena said, lobbing a crumpled paper ball at him. The projectile hit him on the side of the head, and, though he acted as though it didn't exist, Lena caught the twitch at the side of his mouth that meant he was holding back a smile.

A smile lingering on her own face, she returned to the file she had been perusing, and, when Bowman burst into laughter a full five minutes later, she and Heather exchanged nothing more than a quick grin.

* * *

"Thanks, Boss," Tony murmured, as Gibbs slipped into the driver's seat of the navy-blue Charger.

"For what, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, buckling his seat belt before pulling away from the curb.

"For keeping me from chewing my team out for no reason," Tony sighed.

"No good reason," Gibbs corrected. Tony shot him a sideways glance.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked.

"Did it?"

"No."

Gibbs just shrugged.

"They're probably up there right now," DiNozzo went on, "gossiping like cheerleaders who just saw their squad leader back down from a cat fight."

"Nah," Gibbs replied. "I distracted them." Gibbs ignored the curious look DiNozzo tossed him, and went on. "Besides, they're a better team than that, and they like you too much."

* * *

**A/N: Well?? Whatcha think? I am _dying_ to know - so if you want to read the rest of this story, save my life by pressing the review button...Just kidding, of course. ;-) The rest of this story is guaranteed regardless, but you get the picture.  
**

**Also, this may be cheating, but I noticed that I referred in this chapter to the forensic scientist and medical examiner being in Tony's court... Of course, we've already seen Abby, but I just realized that the reference to Palmer in the first draft was a victim of revision, so I'm just going to come out right here and tell you: Palmer is the medical examiner, but please don't expect to actually see him in this story. You will, however, get a little Ducky time in the Epilogue. :-)  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: OK, enough people have asked after McGee that I feel compelled to assure you all that he _is_ coming, and will be making his entrance in Chapter 7 - that would be the one following this one. So not too much longer to wait.**

**This is a somewhat short chapter, but I couldn't really find any way around that, so here we go! :-)

* * *

**They drove the rest of the way to Tony and Ziva's home in a silence that was not awkward, but wasn't exactly comfortable either. Tony didn't get out of the car right away when they arrived, and Gibbs didn't wait for him, knowing that he would find his own way out, when he was ready. Six minutes later, DiNozzo found the older man crouched in the kitchen, looking across the smooth tiled floor to the shattered glass door that had already been temporarily closed up with a large piece of plywood. Without a word, Gibbs pushed himself upright and clapped Tony on the shoulder gently as he headed back for the front door. Tony wanted to follow, but he couldn't quite make himself look away from the plywood or the crack in the wall beside him or the place where he knew Ziva's blood had been before some nameless, faceless people had come to clean up the mess.

When he had come here yesterday afternoon, when the dead bodies and the broken glass and the evidence of a fight had still been all around, he had fought to control the rage that was boiling inside him, but now there was nothing to be angry at. Everything was clean and quiet and so very _empty_, and there was nothing to distract him from the other emotions that had been lurking under the surface. All the life and warmth had gone out of this place, and what if it never came back? What if they didn't come home? What if everything he had loved and lived for was lost forever?

Gibbs was on the porch when he heard a crash inside. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had been waiting for just such a sound, he might have been surprised. He might have hurried inside to see what was wrong, but he already knew what was wrong so he took a moment to brace himself for what was about to come. He'd already seen the outrage and the fury, and he didn't really want to see what came next. If DiNozzo was going to go there, however - and it appeared that he was - then Gibbs would go there with him and drag him out the other side. With a sigh, the retired agent headed back inside.

"Hey," Gibbs murmured as he re-entered the kitchen. DiNozzo was holding the edge of the kitchen island, half bent over, head between his arms. On the floor to his right, Gibbs saw drenched flowers and shattered glass, the remains of a vase that had been stationed on the island. Approaching softly, Gibbs put a hand on Tony's left shoulder and squeezed gently. For all the response Tony offered, one might have thought that Gibbs didn't even exist. Gibbs waited.

"The Director was right," Tony said at last, "I can't do this."

"You can," Gibbs answered, without hesitation.

Tony's left hand parted company with the island, swatting an unlucky drinking glass onto the floor to join the vase. He turned, then grabbed the counter again, leaning against the island much as he had braced himself against his desk in the bullpen. "No, Gibbs," he growled. "I can't. I can't see. I can't think. I can't _breathe_." As if to prove his point, Tony drew a rattling, harsh breath through his teeth. Gibbs watched the skin around DiNozzo's knuckles go white and his green eyes darken. Tony looked down for a moment, but Gibbs was patient, and at last the younger man pulled his gaze back up and looked his mentor in the eye.

"I've never been so scared in my entire life."

Silently, Gibbs took one step forward. He put a hand on the back of Tony's neck, closing his fingers firmly over the younger man's over-heated skin. He paused, for once uncertain that it was the best thing to do, because he _didn't_ know what DiNozzo was going through, not really. He hadn't had time to be afraid for Kelly and Shannon. The time for fear had already passed when he'd found out, leaving nothing but the time for revenge.

"Tony," he said, hesitating again before continuing. "Be grateful for your fear." Tony's eyes jumped back to his - surprised, confused. "It means that something can still be done."

For a prolonged moment, Tony just stared at Gibbs, and Gibbs hoped that the younger man was following the implications of his words - following them all the way back to their roots. Tony had the chance that Gibbs had never had, and he was going to make damn sure that DiNozzo didn't waste it.

"We're going to do something," Gibbs promised. "We're going to find them."

"I feel like I must be missing something - I must be screwing up," Tony admitted unsteadily. "How can there be _nothing_ here? How can there be no clues?"

"I don't see anything either," Gibbs said.

"I left the scene to Sanders," Tony went on, his words beginning to run together and his eyes shifting blindly around the room as he pulled away from Gibbs' hand on his neck. "What if she missed something? What if there was evidence that was missed and thrown away and cleaned up, just because I couldn't stand to see Ziva's blood on the floor, or dead bodies in our kitchen? There could have been something, Gibbs, and now it could be gone." His hands released the counter, and he moved a step away from Gibbs before the older man grabbed his arm and pulled Tony around to face him again. Without a second thought, Gibbs reached around and slapped Tony on the back of the head, hard.

Holding the younger agent's eyes in his own, Gibbs scowled, "Get a grip, DiNozzo. Get your act together. Because second-guessing yourself is NOT going to bring Ziva and Adi home." When Tony didn't respond, his expression frozen and his brain drawing God knows what kind of not-good conclusions, Gibbs tried again.

"I just told the Director that locking you up for the duration of this investigation wasn't necessary," he hissed, closing his fingers tightly over Tony's arm again and giving the younger man a sharp shake. "Do NOT prove me wrong, DiNozzo."

It took another few moments, but Gibbs could see the hardness in Tony's eyes thawing and moving and processing again, so he waited. At last, Tony's gaze found the older man, and Gibbs knew that Tony was really seeing him again. "On it, Boss," DiNozzo said slowly, but with the beginnings of the determination that Gibbs had been hoping to spark.

"C'mon," Gibbs said, pushing Tony ahead of him as he started for the door - he didn't want to give the younger agent a chance to get lost again. "There's nothing more to see here."

Tony allowed himself to be guided outside. He followed Gibbs back to the car in silence, but by the time they were pulling away from the house, Gibbs could tell that Tony had done as he had asked. DiNozzo's green eyes were hard again, but clear, and his expression was one of fierce resolution just tinged by anger. Gibbs nodded to himself; that was precisely what would bring Ziva and Adi back safely.

* * *

**A/N: This was one of the hardest scenes for me to write and it took a lot of revision before I was content with it, so please won't you leave a review??? I'll be holding my breath waiting to hear what you think. Working on this scene made me realize what this story is really all about - in my mind, anyway - so it's pretty important and I hope it reads well.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Again, a big THANK YOU! to everyone who is reading and reviewing and making me feel so very happy about the success of my little story! **

**Now, are you ready for some McGee?

* * *

**Tony's cell started ringing just before the elevator doors opened into the squad room. A quick glance told him that the call was from Agent Sanders, so, stepping out of the elevator slightly ahead of Gibbs, he silenced the phone and tucked it back into its holster.

"What've you got, Sanders?" he called, striding towards her desk. His voice drew the startled looks of his entire team, but Tony noted that both Rob and Heather dove back into their work at once. Yes, they had something - something better than an endless list of possible suspects. Rounding the corner, Tony was surprised to see Abby sitting at his own desk, typing away rapidly at his keyboard and not even pausing as she glanced up to beam at him.

"IDs on the dead bodies," Lena answered, hanging up her own phone quickly. "Abby just got them. Bowman and Canton are bringing up their information now, and Abby's looking up known associates." Abby waved happily at Tony and Gibbs.

"Show me what we've got so far," Tony said. Lena got to her feet, the remote for the plasma in hand, and stepped out from behind her desk. She glanced over her shoulder at Gibbs, who was leaning against the partition behind her, but the retired agent was as silent as a shadow so she turned her attention quickly back to Tony. A click and a gesture of her hand brought the driver's licenses of the dead men onto the screen.

"Gregory Hunt, resident of Virginia," she said, gesturing to the photo on the left, "and Jason Morrow, Maryland. Hunt was dishonorably discharged from the Navy for drug-dealing, and Morrow has a record of petty theft. That's about all we know so far."

"Good work, Abby," DiNozzo said, turning to catch the grin Abby offered in return. Then he stepped up to the plasma, examining the information that was displayed on the screen.

"Did you find anything at your...at the crime scene?" Lena asked hesitantly, still standing in the middle of the bullpen.

After a half-second's delay in which he finished his perusal of the plasma, Tony turned back to her. "No," he said. "There's nothing left to find, Lena. You did good." Lena couldn't quite hide the smile that flashed across her face, but before she could acknowledge Tony's comment, his desk phone started ringing and he stepped across the bullpen rapidly to pick it up.

"Agent DiNozzo," Tony answered briskly. Taking the opportunity to return to her desk, Lena caught a quick wink from Rob, and she sat down before her computer and attacked her keyboard with renewed eagerness. Her focus, however, was quickly disrupted when she overheard Tony's next comment.

"I'm fine," Tony said. "I'm in the office, surrounded by my team." The words drew the attention of all three junior agents, Abby and Gibbs, who unconsciously took two steps closer to his former Senior Field Agent.

"What? When?" The shock in DiNozzo's voice caused worried glances to be exchanged all around the bullpen; only Gibbs kept his eyes focused solely on Tony's expression.

"Call in," Tony said, after another moment passed. "I'll be there in 60 seconds." Tony slammed the phone down quickly, and pulled Gibbs with him as he started for the stairs. "MTAC, Gibbs, we've got a problem." Turning back to his team before he left the bullpen, Tony added, "Keep working. I'll be back down in five and I want information - get me addresses!"

"On it, boss!" came the reply from all three Field Agents and Abby. Lena wasn't the only one, however, that glanced up to watch the figures of Gibbs and Tony ascending the stairs rapidly and then disappearing into MTAC.

"What do you think it was?" Heather asked, when Lena's eyes returned to their level, indicating that the Boss and Gibbs had entered the secure room.

"Not good," Rob speculated, tapping at his keyboard as he spoke.

"Has to be something related to our case," Lena murmured. "He wouldn't have walked out on this for anything else."

"Maybe it is good," Heather said.

"Or both," Lena offered, turning to her computer screen. For a moment, they worked in silence, but Lena couldn't quite get past the question that was spinning in her mind.

"What was with Gibbs just..._hovering_ there?" she finally asked aloud. "It kind of wierded me out."

Bowman smirked. "Good to know I'm not the only one who gets 'spooked.'"

"Seriously, though," Lena pressed, "He didn't say a word."

"He didn't need to," Abby interrupted, pausing from her typing for a moment to catch the three Agents with a stare that was as clear as the spoken word. _Get back to work._

_* * *  
_

"What's happening, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as soon as they were safely inside the dimly-lit interior of MTAC.

"McGee is missing," Tony replied, grabbing a pair of headsets from the MTAC tech as he passed and handing one to Gibbs. Special Agent Hennig of the Los Angeles Office of Special Projects was already on the big screen. Yanking his headset over his head in a manner that made the technician cringe, Tony crossed his arms and faced his distant fellow Agent. Gibbs followed suit.

"Alright, Hennig," Tony said, "Fill us in."

"Agent Gibbs?" Hennig inquired, her face growing on the screen as she peered at the retired agent, "I heard you retired. May I ask what you're doing here?"

"No," Gibbs scowled. "McGee!"

Leaning away, Hennig spared an instant to look put out by Gibbs' abruptness before she obeyed his request. "We weren't expecting McGee until 1000 this morning, so we didn't start to worry about him until 1030 or so. We called him - got no answer, so around 1130 Agents Connelly and Weston stopped by his place. They found his cell phone, badge and weapon on the floor, and a note. There were no signs of a struggle or forced entry." Gibbs started pacing, but Tony remained still and intent on Hennig's face.

"What did the note say?" Tony inquired.

Hennig hesitated slightly before answering. "It said, 'DiNozzo next.' That's why we called." That news brought Gibbs' pacing up short, and he exchanged a mutually apprehensive glance with Tony.

"Do we know when McGee was taken?" Tony asked, pulling his eyes away from the storm that was brewing in Gibbs' expression.

"Yesterday evening," Hennig replied, "He left here at 1800, neighbors reported that they saw him on their way out around 1830. His home computer had last been active at 1847, and there was food in the microwave."

DiNozzo bowed his head for a moment, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a huge breath.

"Is there something else going on here that I should know about?" Agent Hennig questioned, her voice betraying a touch of lingering irritation.

"We have an agent missing as well," Tony said. "Ziva."

"Do you think the note was referring to your wife?" Hennig inquired, crossing her arms.

"No," Tony said, "I don't."

"But you _do _think the cases are connected," Hennig commented.

"I don't believe in coincidences," Tony replied.

Hennig nodded. "How long has Ziva been missing?"

"Almost 20 hours now."

Now it was the LA agent's turn to sigh and wipe a hand across her face. "How's your investigation going?" she asked.

"Like shit until about five minutes ago, when we finally IDed the two dead bodies Ziva left for us," Tony answered.

"Then I suppose I should let you get to that, Agent DiNozzo," Hennig said. "We'll keep you informed on anything we find over here."

"Ditto," Tony replied, already beginning to pull his headset off.

"Agent DiNozzo," Hennig said, drawing Tony's attention back to the screen. "Watch your six." With a quick gesture to someone off-screen, she vanished into black.

"This isn't just about someone after me or Ziva," Tony muttered, tossing his headset back to the MTAC tech carelessly. Gibbs peeled his own headset off and returned it with even less caution.

"No, DiNozzo," he growled. "Someone's after my whole damn team."

"But why do it this way?" Tony wondered. "Why not strike when Zi and I were both home? I mean, taking us both would have been a whole lot less complicated than ransom, if that's what they have in mind." Tony's green eyes flickered to Gibbs questioningly, and just before Gibbs said it, Tony understood.

"Because, DiNozzo, they needed you to call me."

* * *

The first thing he became aware of was pain - the stabbing ache behind his eyes, then the uncomfortable pull in his twisted shoulders, the cutting sting of something binding his wrists together, and the numbness of a butt too long pressed against a hard floor. He let himself groan, because he remembered how he'd ended up here, and he really needed to work on his instincts.

"McGee!"

The half-hissed voice cut into the fog he had been pushing his way through slowly. He blinked a few times, but that didn't really help him make sense of this unexpected development.

"McGee," the voice repeated impatiently. "Are you waking up or not?"

"Ziva?" he said, the disbelief transparent in his words.

"Yes," Ziva hissed back. McGee struggled momentarily against his binds, stopping after a moment when the plastic ties on his wrists cut into his skin. Quickly taking stock of his positon, he turned his head in the direction of Ziva's voice and found that she was bound in a similar fashion, on her feet and leaning against the opposite side of the same pole that his arms were tied around.

"What are you doing here?" McGee asked, still struggling against the blurry, shifting edges in his brain.

Ziva scoffed at him. "You should not be asking that question," she said. "I am not the one 2,000 miles away from where I'm supposed to be."

"We're in D.C.?" McGee asked.

"No further than 60 miles from my house in Silver Spring," she said.

"Tony?" McGee questioned, after a moment's hesitation to collect his thoughts.

"Not here," Ziva said. "Just me and Adi...and you."

"Where's Adi?" McGee asked, immediately searching the room they were in for the young girl. Ziva's heart twisted at the surge of protective anger in McGee's voice.

"In a room behind the door to your left," Ziva answered.

A moment passed before McGee continued the conversation. "Do you know what they want with us?"

"They want money," Ziva replied with a sigh. "The men who are holding us are just hired muscle. The question is: who hired them?"

McGee frowned, but, sensing the fatigue and frustration of the woman behind him, he replied with all the optimism and faith he could gather. "Tony will find out," he said, "and then he'll find us."

"I know," Ziva replied wearily, allowing herself to slide down the poll, bending her knees until she was sitting almost back to back with McGee. A long moment's silence passed between them before the Israeli woman again broke the silence. "It's good to see you, McGee. It's been too long."

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**A/N: See, I told you McGee was coming! What did you think of his grand entrance? Reviews are like magic treasure, only cooler!  
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**Lots of action coming up in the next chapter!  
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	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry that I missed posting this chapter yesterday! That is what happens when a big ole snowstorm comes along and traps you in your house all day long and knocks out your internet connection, too. :-( However, having no internet all day long aside, I had a great day! I haven't been knee-deep in snow for about seven years, and I'd forgotten how much FUN it is!**

**Anyway, I'll post this chapter today and Chapter 9 tomorrow...so you can at least be thankful that you won't have to wait long between these two action-packed chapters that are coming up! Enjoy!  
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"You feeling what I'm feeling?" Tony murmured as he pulled the navy-blue NCIS Charger alongside the curb in front of Gregory Hunt's small suburban home. In a neighborhood of modest but respectably-kept homes, Hunt's house stood out for its faint air of neglect. The weeds in the lawn, the chipping paint on the railings of his porch, and the scrubby, malnourished shrubbery all gave off the impression of carelessness, of an occupant too busy to be bothered by such things, and also too busy to be bothered with keeping up appearances. Neglect wasn't what was setting alarms off in Tony's gut, though.

"Yeah, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied after a moment. "I'm feeling it." Tony's eyes flashed to Gibbs' ice-blue stare for an instant before turning back to the house.

"They've known for a while that we might find this address at any time," Tony added, reminding himself that he had warned Sanders to be cautious, and that he could count on her to do so.

Without answering, Gibbs stepped out of the car, drawing his weapon at the same time, but keeping it low to his side. Tony followed suit. The Lead Agent waited a moment for Gibbs to join him before the two men prowled across the lawn towards the front door, angled away from each other slightly to capture the widest possible view of the surrounding area. Reaching the small porch quickly, Tony tested the door knob, then knelt to pick the lock while Gibbs continued to assess the situation, peeking quickly through both porch windows.

"Looks clear," Gibbs muttered, as Tony got to his feet and took a step back from the door. Gibbs took his position, and DiNozzo stepped forward rapidly to push the front door open, retreating just as quickly to allow Gibbs to rush into the house, weapon leading the way. Tony stepped into his wake immediately, his Sig raised, and his footsteps light across the linoleum as they swept into the tiny foyer. Finding the coast clear so far, Tony nodded to Gibbs and they split away from each other, Tony heading for a room that opened to the side of the space they were now in and Gibbs moving directly across from the door towards what appeared to be the kitchen.

Moving into the side room with rapid, cat-like caution, Tony reacted immediately when he came face-to-face with a dark-clothed, armed figure. Two close-range and instantaneous shots took the man down immediately, and Tony quickly realized that the other gunshots he's heard hadn't come from the foe he was facing.

"Gibbs!" he called, scanning the rest of the side room rapidly on his way back into the foyer. A flash above him, and Tony dove for cover in the threshold to the side room - he'd barely had time to see that Gibbs was crouched in the corner of the foyer against the stairs. In the next instant, Tony took aim at the bastard that was positioned on the stairwell. Two bullets took the man out, and Tony managed to pull back in time to dodge the shots that were taken at him in return.

Ducking around the wall again, Tony timing was nearly perfect as three men moved into the foyer from the kitchen. Gibbs took three shots in quick succession, taking out the foe closest to him. At the same time, two shots from Tony's gun landed in one of the other men, and the third managed to dodge and run back for the kitchen. With a quick glance at Gibbs, Tony leaped after the third man, Gibbs at his heels as he moved into the kitchen. He spun around the separating wall with his Sig leading and found himself only feet from the remaining foe, weapons raised between them as they stared at each other. Gibbs was only six inches to Tony's left, his weapon also raised.

"Put it down," Tony growled.

The dark-haired man's eyes flicked to the side.

"There's no where to go," Tony warned him. "PUT IT DOWN."

It only took one more tense moment before the man lowered his gun, and Tony stepped forward and yanked the weapon out of his limp hand. Tossing the captured gun aside, DiNozzo grabbed the bastard by his shirt and threw him into the wall.

"Where are they?" he roared, his mouth inches from the man's face. When the only response was silence, Tony backed off enough to land a punch hard in the guy's jaw. "WHERE?"

"I don't know," the man sputtered, blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth.

The sound that came out of Tony's throat was nothing but rage, and, helplessly, the dirt bag flinched away from the expression on Tony's face. The only thing that stopped Tony from beating the bastard to a pulp in that moment was the advance of Gibbs's presence as the older man stepped closer to their captive. The threat on the retired agent's face was unmistakable as Gibbs raised his weapon, it's mouth less than a foot from the man's sweat-soaked forehead.

"Let me explain this to you," Gibbs began. "You tell us where our people are being held, or you die...right here, right now."

"You can't do that," the man stuttered. "You're cops."

"Feds," Gibbs corrected. "He is, but I'm not." He pressed a little closer. "Just look at him, though," he said, gesturing to Tony with a half-smile curling up the corner of his mouth. "Does he look like he's worried about his career right now?" The dirt bag's eyes shifted uneasily back to Tony, and the look in his eyes told Gibbs that he agreed with the former NCIS Agent's assessment. "If you don't start talking, you better hope that I shoot you. It'll hurt a hell of a lot less."

"Leesburg," the man said quickly. "Some 15 miles West of town, 4872 North Cannon Road, way back into the woods."

"All three of them?" Gibbs questioned.

"Yes," the man replied. "The woman, the girl, and the guy from LA."

Gibbs smiled. "How many of your friends?"

"Less now," the man said. Tony hit him again, just as hard as the first time. "Probably six."

"Now was that so hard?" Gibbs asked, and then he hit the man hard in the back of the head with his gun. He crumpled to the floor, and Gibbs wasted no time dragging him into the foyer. Gibbs held a hand out to Tony and the younger man dug a pair of handcuffs out of the pocket of his jacket. Cuffing the unconscious man to a stairwell railing, Gibbs rapidly checked his pockets for anything useful. He found nothing.

"We have to go now," Tony said, holstering his gun. "As soon as whatever bastard is running this operation finds out that their ambush went to Hell, they'll be moving Ziva, Adi and McGee somewhere else."

"It'll take your team at least a half hour to catch up with us," Gibbs said.

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE," DiNozzo yelled. "We cannot wait!"

"I wasn't suggesting that we wait, Tony" Gibbs replied off-handedly. "Just stating the facts. We have under 30 miles to come up with a rescue plan."

"Right," Tony said, and Gibbs didn't have to lay eyes on the younger man to know that he was working to slow his breath, closing and opening his fists to pump the anger out of his system.

"I'll drive," Gibbs said, standing and pulling Tony with him as he headed for the door. "You call your team and Abby. Get someone here to process this mess, and get us some back-up."

Tony's stride smoothed as he managed to force-drain the fury from his body, and he acknowledged Gibbs' words by slipping quickly to the passenger side of the Charger while Gibbs took the driver's seat. As Gibbs started the engine and pulled away from the curb with a screech of abused tires, Tony pulled his cell phone out, pounding the numbers only slightly harder than was necessary before holding the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, boss?" Agent Sanders answered.

"Any trouble at Morrow's house?" Tony asked.

"None. You?"

"Ambush," Tony said shortly. "We're okay, and we have an address for Ziva, Adi and McGee's location. I'll text it to you. Meet us there ASAP."

"Boss, you can't go in alone..."

"ASAP, Sanders," Tony snapped, "and call Abby. Give her the address, tell her McGee is there, too. And tell her to have the Director send a team to clean up the mess Gibbs and I just made." Without waiting for a response, Tony flipped his phone shut and shoved it back into the holster at his waist.

"We'll have back-up," Tony said, after a moment, "but not right away."

Gibbs blew a heavy breath out through his mouth. "Extra weapons?"

"Two more Sigs in the back" Tony said.

"Ammo?" Gibbs asked.

Tony huffed. "I'm insulted that you even had to ask."

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**A/N: So, how'd that sit with you? This is really my first attempt at writing an action scene like this, and - having never been in a gun fight myself(thankfully) - I certainly hope that it came off realistically enough. Won't you please leave me a review and tell me what you thought??**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Quick question/note - I've noticed that some writers put warnings in their A/Ns when there is "coarse language" present in the coming chapter. Well, there is some coarse language in this chapter (and the last one), but isn't that implied by the 'T' rating? If you're interested in weighing in with your opinion on whether or not warnings should be supplied, feel free to share in a review!  
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**THANK YOU for reading and ENJOY! :-)

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"Damn it!" Chris Wilson swore as he slammed his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He'd called his second-in-command, Mike, three times, and each time the call had gone to the anonymous voice mail message that was making Chris' anxiety multiply fast. He paced the kitchen, ignoring the questioning eyes of the rest of his team, and ran an impatient hand through his shoulder-length chestnut hair.

"We're going to need to move the hostages," he muttered, forcing himself to stop beside the kitchen table. "Damn it, Mike," he added again, under his breath. This op was going to Hell, and Chris was fast starting to regret that he had ever agreed to take it on. He almost hadn't; he'd almost walked away from the sketchy intel, the precarious, overly-elaborate plan and the glint of mad desperation in Daniel Wayland's eyes, but Chris couldn't make himself turn his back on the multi-million dollar pay out.

"I'll call Wayland. Get the van ready," Chris ordered, staring down two of his remaining men until they nodded, got to their feet and slouched out of the room. Pulling his cell phone back out, Chris hesitated before dialing the number. Every time he called Wayland, the man seemed closer to losing his mind. It was a potent mix of bloodlust, grief, fury and desperation that drove the 60-something owner of one of the largest law firms on the East coast, and Chris was smart enough to know that strong emotion and successful ops didn't usually mix. He was half-tempted to take his men and walk out, but God only knew to what lengths Wayland might go to punish the breach of contract. No, escape at this point was not an option; victory was the only way out of this mess. Chris made the call, and, as usual, Wayland picked up on the first ring.

"We've got a problem," Chris reported without preamble. "Our location may have been compromised. Where can we move the hostages?" The three men who had remained inside with Chris watched intently as their leader snatched a piece of paper and a pen and began scribbling furiously against the table.

"I haven't been able to reach Mike," Chris snapped suddenly. "That's why I'm calling you." Pulling the phone slightly away from his ear as Wayland launched into an angry tirade, Chris gestured to the men who had remained in the kitchen with him. "Check on Hal and Jim," he mouthed. "Then get the hostages." Obediently, the men headed towards the front door.

"Wayland!" Chris said sharply, hoping to interrupt the lawyer's rant. "If you want me to get your assets out of here, I've got to go. I'll call you when...fuck!" Chris flinched and swore when the report of a gun echoed through the cabin, followed quickly by a spurt of additional gunfire.

"I'll call you," Chris spat into the phone, before pushing it into his pocket once more. Grabbing two automatic weapons off the kitchen counter, he crouched and hurried for the front porch, a long string of expletives slipping off his tongue as he readied himself for battle.

* * *

"Three-to-two looks a Hell of a lot better than six-to-two did," Agent DiNozzo said grimly, as he waited for an opportunity to take another shot at the remaining kidnappers. Without answering, Gibbs leaned around the edge of the dark van they were sheltered behind, drawing the fire and attention of the two men who were still shooting at them. Taking advantage of Gibbs' diversion, Tony ducked around the opposite side of the van and took two shots, swearing under his breath when both men managed to dodge his bullets and take cover behind the woodpile that was just off the front porch.

"Let's hope it's only six," Gibbs frowned, signaling Tony to divert attention to himself. Tony did so, but the kidnappers were learning fast. When Gibbs leaned out for his shot, he was forced to yank back immediately to avoid the bullets that were fired in his direction. Impatient, DiNozzo peeked around the edge of the van again, and he threw himself back in surprise when his appearance drew a burst of machine gun fire. Gibbs, too, swiftly side-stepped further away from the edges of the van.

"Sounds like they're upgrading their fire power," Tony said.

"Ya think, DiNozzo," Gibbs hissed. Another burst of weapons fire cut off Tony's response, accompanied by the sound of bullets imbedding themselves into the far side of the van.

"Shit," Tony muttered to himself. "Just shit!"

* * *

Chris cursed when he saw one of his men fallen on the porch, just outside the front door. He quickly caught sight of two others, Paul and Jack, sheltered behind the woodpile and exchanging shots with the NCIS Agents who seemed to be taking cover behind their van - which no doubt meant that they had already taken down the men he'd sent to prepare the vehicle. Chris waited for a short respite in the gunfire before hurrying across the porch and ducking behind the woodpile with what remained of his team. Thrusting one of the automatic weapons into Jack's hands, he quickly peered over the woodpile and let loose a barrage of fire at the barely visible Agent near the front side of the van - Anthony DiNozzo, if the man matched the photos Wayland had provided them with.

"Get the girl," Chris hissed at Paul, pushing the other man towards the porch roughly. Jack barraged the van with gunfire to keep the feds from interrupting Paul's return to the house.

Leaning his shoulder lightly against the woodpile, Chris stared Jack in the eye for a moment when the other man ducked down for a quick pause in the shooting. "This is gonna be a piece of cake," Chris assured the other man, pushing himself back up to put an eye on the van. "Paul'll bring the girl up here, and DiNozzo and Gibbs are going to surrender to save her life. That'll be that."

For good measure, he loosed another round of fire at the two men behind the van. No sense in giving them the opportunity to think, and there was always the off chance that a bullet or two would penetrate the vehicle.

* * *

Ziva startled into hyper-awareness at the sound of the first gun shot, scrambling to her feet awkwardly when one gunshot turned into an all out fire fight.

"McGee!" she hissed, fighting down the slight dizziness that accompanied her sudden movement. "Something is happening up there!"

"I hear that, Ziva," the other Agent replied, working his own way to his feet. They were quiet for a few moments, Ziva listening intently to the sounds of the battle going on above, trying to discern a story from the pattern and frequency of shots. She tugged half-heartedly at her binds once more, starting the raw skin of her wrists bleeding again.

"How many shooters do you think?" McGee whispered.

"Not many, four to six. I can't be sure." A burst of automatic fire made Ziva catch her breath.

"It could be on our side," McGee murmured optimistically. Ziva would have glared at him if they hadn't been tied back-to-back.

"It's not," she said, pulling at her binds again. The action had become something of a habit by now, and she barely even felt the pain anymore. If Tony was up there - and she had no doubt that he was - then she should be up there with him, watching his six. Just the thought pushed a stab of fear through her chest, fear that still felt new and overwhelming to her; it was more difficult than she had ever imagined, having things to lose.

The unmistakable sound of someone rushing down the stairs interrupted her concern abruptly. She felt McGee stiffen behind her. The fire fight continued on above them, dominated by the report of the automatic weapons now, and Ziva could only hope that Tony and whoever was with him had found solid cover. Focusing her thoughts on the present situation, Ziva leaned against the pole behind her as one of the kidnappers entered the basement, doing her best to look non-threatening and inconspicuous. The light-haired man crossed the space to the far door without so much as a glance at Ziva or McGee, and Ziva felt a thrill of anger and anticipation run down her spine. The man was in a hurry, he was stressed and scared, and he was a fool. He'd come for Adi, a predictable solution to resolving the situation upstairs, and the most direct route from the stairs to the room Adi was being held in had taken him within reach of Ziva's unbound feet. Ziva shifted her weight slightly and prayed that he would make the same mistake twice.

When the man re-emerged from the back room, pulling Adi roughly by her arm, Ziva worked hard to keep her focus strong without giving away her intention. Too much energy, too much intensity, might alert her target to the danger. She spared a half-instant to scan her daughter, relieved to find that the girl looked uninjured, even if her dark green eyes were bright with fear. Ziva rebalanced minutely, and felt McGee shift behind her - he, at least, had sensed that something was up.

Ziva's prayer was answered, and, at precisely the right moment, she lashed out, catching the kidnapper in the neck with her right foot. The feel of the impact we all she needed to know that she had struck her mark with perfection; the sight of him collapsing unconscious before her was an unnecessary confirmation of her success. Adi, who had been dragged half-way to the floor when her captor had fallen, quickly scrambled to her feet and threw herself into Ziva's side, wrapping her arms around her mother's legs and burying her face in the side of her hip. Her daughter's body shaking with fear against her made Ziva wonder if her heart would be torn in two by the mix of gratitude, anger, fear and sheer love that raged within her. Forcing a deep breath into her lungs and half-closing her eyes, Ziva fought to stifle the emotion at least long enough to get them out of here alive. _What now?_

"Ziva!" McGee interrupted her internal race for a next step. "I have a knife."

"Where, McGee?" Ziva said urgently, eyes widened with excitement and sudden hope.

"Concealed in my belt," McGee replied. "Tony gave it to me for my birthday last year."

Taking an instant to bless the chain of decisions had led to this small bit of fortune, Ziva then turned her face to her daughter and spoke gently to her. "Adi-love," she murmured. "Look at me." Obediently, the girl raised her eyes to Ziva's face. "My brave darling, I need you to get Uncle Tim's knife." Adi nodded slowly, pulling her small arms away from Ziva and moving to stand in front of McGee, looking into his face questioningly.

"Unbuckle my belt, Adi" McGee prompted her, "and then pull on the buckle." Adi followed his instructions without delay, and her tug revealed the promised knife blade. Ziva blew out a huge sigh that was half disbelief and half plain thankfulness. Tony had told her how just such a knife blade had once saved his life from a mad waitress in the sewers of D.C. - when he was trying to explain to her why _this _belt-knife would be the perfect gift for McGee. She had laughed at his assuredly over-dramatic retelling, but she had also encouraged the purchase - amused by the excitement that the memory sparked in him. Little had she known that it might one day save her daughter, herself, McGee and Tony, too.

"Good girl," Ziva said softly, drawing Adi's eyes back to her own. "Can you cut me free?" With only the smallest of hesitations, Adi did so, the not-quite-sharp blade held in her shaking hands managing to eat its way through the plastic binds as her determination grew. As soon as her hands were free, Ziva twisted onto her knees, one arm finding its way around Adi's shoulders as the opposite hand seized the knife blade and sliced McGee free in one quick swipe. Dropping the blade to the ground, Ziva wrapped Adi into her arms, pressing her face into the child's curls as McGee hurried to search the fallen kidnapper.

"I love you," Ziva whispered against Adi's ear, holding the girl tighter for a moment before she released her, keeping a hold of one of Adi's hands as she stood and turned to face McGee.

Holding out the gun he'd found on the man's belt, McGee said, "You're the better shot." Ziva nodded, took the weapon, then pressed Adi's hand into McGee's.

"Stay with your Uncle McGee," she murmured to Adi, waiting for the girl to nod before turning her eyes on McGee. McGee nodded once in acknowledgment of Ziva's silent request, and Ziva tore herself away to rush up the stairs. Adi and McGee followed just slightly behind her, McGee holding Adi close against his side.

Stepping into the upstairs hallway, Ziva hesitated only long enough to discern that the source of the ongoing gunfire was outside the cabin. Staying close to the wall, she hurried towards the sound and through the small entrance room. Pressing herself against the wall beside the open door, she listened for indication of how many men she'd be facing.

"Where the Hell is Paul?" she heard someone hiss, and the voice made her anger flare. It was the man who had introduced himself as Chris, who had laughed at her attempt to save her daughter. Without wasting another moment, Ziva took one more step, pleased when the position offered clean and easy shots at the two gunmen that were crouched beside the front porch. She emptied her borrowed weapon into their backs without hesitation, and even when her bullets were spent, she couldn't bring herself to lower the gun right away. Shooting hadn't involved quite enough violence to quench her thirst for revenge.

"Ziva!" Tony's voice pierced her unsatisfied fury, and she turned her face to see him emerging from behind a bullet-ridden van parked in the driveway. Holstering his weapon, Tony sprinted the distance between them, leaping the porch stairs in one long stride and stopping an arm's length from Ziva to touch her gently on the arm. "Are you okay?" he asked, examining her frozen expression warily.

After a pause that was only slightly too long, Ziva began to nod, her eyes sliding to Tony's. "I am fine," she said. "Now."

"Daddy!" Adi's voice rang out from the doorway, and drawing his fingers across Ziva's skin, Tony took two quick strides and pulled his daughter away from McGee, wrapping her tight against his chest and burying his face in her curls.

Walking across the yard towards the cabin's entrance, Gibbs felt his chest tighten with a strange mixture of relief, love, pride and the ever-present regret as Tony lifted Adi into his arms. He watched Ziva put one hand on Tony's back, and stroke Adi's hair with the other. He saw Tony shift his daughter onto his left hip, freeing his right hand to greet McGee with a handshake and a one-armed hug before reaching for Ziva's waist and pulling her against his side. The retired agent felt a smile twist his face, even as a streak of ancient grief lanced across his heart, and then he climbed up the stairs to join his team.

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Less than fifteen miles separated Daniel Wayland's Leesburg home from the isolated cabin he had purchased years ago for the entertainment of his two sons. The boys loved to hunt - and to party. To be honest, Wayland had never really paid much attention to what they used the cabin for, and they had used it often before enlisting in the Marine Corp. Wayland pushed his black Mercedes faster along the twisting, rural road, anger building in his chest when he thought of his boys. This damned plan had gone wrong from day one, and there was no way that he was going to rely on Chris to salvage what was left of it. At this point, Wayland was willing to admit that he wasn't going to have things exactly the way he'd wanted, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing what he could. Even one bullet - one death - would be better than none.

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**A/N: Reviews are WAY better than sliced bread! They're better than CityMarket's Gourmet Apple Berry Pie. They might even be better than chocolate! ... Yes, I have decided that they ARE better than chocolate. So won't you _please_ press the magic button and let me know what you're thinking?  
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**Only two more chapters and the Epilogue left, folks...we're almost there. I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that! (-:-(  
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	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I don't really have anything to say other than THANKS for reading and ENJOY! :-)

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"Were you trying to cut your hands off?" Tony murmured, looking up briefly to catch Ziva's eye as he dabbed a damp towel at the bloody cuts ringing her wrist.

"Perhaps," Ziva replied, keeping her voice as light as she could. Tony, however, heard the shaky undertone and understood the thing she did not say. _She would have if she could have, if it would have saved their daughter. _He pulled his eyes up to Ziva's again, and the pain in his expression made Ziva's heart catch. Lifting a hand to hold his face, she whispered, "You saved us."

Tony shifted his focus, taking in the whole of Ziva, sitting before him in one of the kitchen chairs, Adi curled awkwardly against her chest. "I wish I hadn't had to," he said.

Ziva smiled sadly and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could begin a movement behind Tony caught her eye. She looked towards the entrance room, and Tony followed her wary glance, rotating on the balls of his feet. Ziva closed an arm over Adi instinctively, and, just as instinctively, Tony reached for his holstered weapon.

"Ah ah, Agent DiNozzo," a voice cautioned, as an aged man in a dark suit stepped into the kitchen, weapon raised and trained on Ziva and Adi. "I wouldn't do that if I was you." Reluctantly, Tony let his hand fall away from his gun, then pushed himself upright very slowly.

"Good choice," the grey-haired man said. "Now kindly put your hands up." Tony complied, but Ziva kept her arms wrapped around Adi, whispering a few soft words into the little girl's ear.

"Now," the man said, "Where is Gibbs?" When Tony didn't respond right away, the man took a step closer. "_Where?" _The desperation just beneath the surface of his voice threw a chill down Tony's spine. He'd seen enough to know that this man was more dangerous than the rest, a lot more.

"In the basement," Tony answered.

"Call him."

Tony hesitated for only a second before he did as he had been asked. "Gibbs," he called, just loud enough to be heard downstairs. The sound of Gibbs and McGee ascending the stairs followed at once, and Tony almost cringed as the two men emerged into the kitchen, freezing when they took in the situation that had developed in their brief absence. Keeping his gun pointed at Ziva, the man turned his face to Gibbs with an expression that Tony catalogued as maniacal satisfaction.

"We meet again, Special Agent Gibbs," he grinned. "Remember me?"

"Daniel Wayland," Gibbs replied at once. "Lawyer."

A half-strangled bark of laughter escaped Wayland's throat. "Lawyer and _father,_" he corrected. Gibbs fought down the urge to throw himself at the bastard. He would have taken the chance of being shot himself, but the blaze in Wayland's face warned Gibbs that this was a man beyond reason, beyond caring for his own life - and his gun was pointed at Adi's head pressed against Ziva's heart. One shot could kill them both.

"You remember my boys," Wayland continued. "My good boys. You ruined their lives."

"I remember," Gibbs admitted. "But I remember it a little differently."

"Because you never did know what you were talking about," Wayland spat. There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Why now, Wayland?" Gibbs asked, hoping to buy time, to keep Wayland talking while he figured out some way to get them the Hell out of this mess. Unfortunately, he miscalculated; apparently that was precisely the wrong question to ask.

"Because my sons - my only family - are now dead, Agent Gibbs," the aged lawyer howled. "And now yours will be, too." His gun swung to Tony's head. Tony ducked rapidly, heart hammering in his throat, pulling Ziva off her chair with him and then pushing her and Adi away from Wayland desperately. Two gunshots rang out, followed by the sound of someone collapsing to the floor, and it was all Tony could do to hear beyond the pounding of his own blood.

Silence descended abruptly over the room, and, after a half-moment of pause, Tony turned to see Gibbs, weapon still holstered, grinning at something beyond where Wayland had stood. Turning farther, and feeling Ziva shift herself and Adi beside him, Tony let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding when Agent Sanders entered the kitchen, stepping over Wayland's fallen body with her gun still raised, followed closely by Bowman and Canton. After a quick glance around the room, Lena lowered her weapon.

"Nice timing, Sanders," Gibbs said appreciatively, moving across the kitchen to Ziva's side and offering a hand to lift her and Adi to their feet. Tony pushed himself upright as well, still feeling the adrenaline washing through his system. Just as he was about to compliment his team's timing as well, his phone rang, and, with one hand on Ziva's arm, he flipped it open quickly.

"DiNozzo," he said.

Abby's words on the other side came through in a mad rush that Tony had a little trouble following. "It's Daniel Wayland, Tony. From a case in 2008. You guys put away his two sons, both Marines, and both later died in jail and that address you gave me isn't far from a private air field and Wayland chartered a flight from LA to that field..."

"Abby!" Tony cut her off. "Abby, we know. Lena just put a bullet in his head."

"Oh," Abby said. Then, almost as if she was afraid to, she went on, "McGee? Ziva? Adi?"

"We're all fine, Abby," Tony said wearily. "I'll call you later."

"You'd better," Abby admonished, and then she hung up.

Tucking his phone back into its holster, Tony turned back to the team. "Abby figured it out," he explained unnecessarily. He moved closer to Ziva, taking her hand in his almost unconsciously. Gibbs was holding Adi propped against his hip. McGee and Canton, who had worked a handful of ops together before Heather's assignment to D.C., were talking softly, and Lena and Rob were watching Tony, waiting for his instructions.

"There's a lot of work to be done here," Tony said.

"We'll handle it," Lena assured him, without the slightest hint of hesitation or doubt.

"That's good," Tony replied, offering a tired smile. "That's very good. Thank you, Sanders."

Lena nodded once, and Tony knew that she had read between the lines.

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**A/N: Reviews are like the very breath of life...they totally make my day! So, won't you please tell me what you're thinking?**

**Also, on Monday, I'll post Chapter 11 and the Epilogue together since they are both a little shorter than your average chapter...and then this story will be all over! :-(  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: A big THANK YOU to everyone whose been reading along and hanging in there with me, and especially to those who have taken the time to leave reviews along the way! This is my first time publishing a story of any significant length, so I very much appreciate knowing that people are out there enjoying it! **

**Like I said last time, I'm posting Chapter 11 and the Epilogue together...so here we go!**

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Late that night, Gibbs rolled over in Tony and Ziva's guest bedroom and heard soft piano notes creeping through the open door. He lay on his back in the dark for a few minutes and just listened to the clumsy, barely audible sounds, following one after the other like rain drops at the end of a storm. Sliding agilely across the bed, he got to his feet and padded gently into the hallway, pushing the basement door open cautiously and shutting it behind him with matching care. He descended the steps silently, pausing at the lower landing when he caught sight of Tony seated on the piano bench. The hunched figure of his former Agent was no surprise to Gibbs, nor was the way the younger man's fingers whispered their way about the keys, picking out a tune that was no tune, unplanned, and yet somehow still beautiful.

Taking the last few steps, however, he was surprised to see that Tony was not alone, as he had expected. On the couch against the wall beyond the piano, Ziva and Adi were curled together in sleep, wrapped in a quilt that looked like it had seen newer, but not better, days. Even more careful to be quiet now, Gibbs crossed the distance to the piano. Tony looked up at him briefly when he was only a few steps away, and Gibbs half-smiled as he slid onto the polished wood bench beside the younger man.

"Adi couldn't sleep," Tony murmured, his eyes remaining fixed on the piano now as he continued his improvised tune. Gibbs didn't press DiNozzo to say whether Adi had been the only one; he didn't need to. After all, Adi was not the one that was still awake.

"She loves the piano," Tony continued without prompting. "She plays it better than I do," he added with a grin. A few moments passed without talking, but the piano notes marched on. "Ziva's grandmother used to play the piano late at night in their house, when Ziva and Tali and Ari were young...she says it helped them forget the noise of the streets in Tel Aviv, noise that was not always so pleasant. Ziva still remembers the songs she played and she's teaching them to Adi now, one by one. They're beautiful songs, beautiful lullabies, but I can't remember a single one of them, and Ziva is morally opposed to writing them down."

"Whatever you're playing seems to have worked just fine," Gibbs commented, glancing over his shoulder at the two figures fast asleep on the couch. Tony took what was meant to be a quick glance as well, but his eyes lingered on Ziva's face, on Adi's cascade of dark hair.

"Yes," he admitted softly as he turned back to the piano. "It does."

"And when do you get to sleep?" Gibbs wondered, after a few minutes of silence had passed between them.

"Says the man who is _still_ building boats by hand," Tony answered, without looking up. "How many has it been now?" Gibbs didn't dignify that question with a response, but he saw Tony's point. What was it Ziva had once said about the pot calling the cauldron black? Gibbs felt the corner of his mouth lift briefly in a half-smile.

"You're not me, Tony," Gibbs reminded him softly.

"Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" Tony asked casually.

"Tony," Gibbs said, turning his body to face the younger man slightly. "I always hoped you'd have a better life than I've had, that you would become a better man. And you have." Gibbs detected an abnormal hitch in the rhythm of Tony's notes, but they picked up again with stubborn resolve, and Gibbs went on. "I didn't have a chance to save Shannon and Kelly, but even if I had I sometimes wonder if I could have." His throat felt thick and heavy, but he pushed on resolutely. "I saw nothing but red for months after they left. I don't know if I could've done what you did today. I don't think I would've had the control."

Tony's fingers stopped, his hands hovering above the keys for a moment before he brought them to his side and turned to look Gibbs in the eye. "You'll never really know about that, will you?" Tony said, "But you'll know this: you did save Ziva and Adi. I couldn't have done that without you."

In a sudden need to avoid Tony's face, Gibbs looked around the room instead, taking in the carpet and the couches and the big screen TV. The surround sound system and the shelves full of DVDs. The small refrigerator, counter and sink tucked away beneath the stairs. His eyes roamed until they settled again on Ziva and her daughter, and Tony followed his gaze.

"I'm glad you get to have this life," Gibbs whispered. "The life I didn't get to have. Knowing that you and Ziva and Adi are here together and happy and alive, that helps me sleep at night."

"Good," Tony muttered, turning back to the piano and striking a few soft notes. "Because you deserve that, and a whole lot more."

Gibbs stood, resting his hand on Tony's shoulder for a moment before heading for the stairs. The piano notes picked up again as he made his way back to the guest bedroom and settled under the covers again. He lay awake for a few minutes listening, and then smiled widely to himself when the tune died away into silence. He imagined Tony pulling a second blanket out and wrapping himself up to sleep on the couch that neighbored Ziva and Adi's, positioning himself so that he could see them easily just by opening his eyes. And then closing them and finding peace.

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**A/N: Wondering what the Epilogue will hold? Well, just click on through and there it is!**


	12. Epilogue

**A/N: I went back and forth on including this for a while, but in the end I decided that it is in. And I DO like it; hopefully, you will, too.**

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Gibbs smiled to himself as a memory of Tony, McGee, Abby and Adi playing basketball in Tony's front yard flickered across his mind unbidden. Both he and McGee had chosen to stay the remainder of the weekend in D.C., taking all of Sunday to enjoy the first time the whole team had been together in almost three years.

Gibbs remembered Adi shrieking with excitement, holding the ball tight against her chest, as Tony chased her all the way around the house, across the yard, back onto the driveway and straight into McGee's waiting arms. McGee had lifted her over his head and allowed her to drop the ball through the waiting hoop, and the delight on her face was so vivid it was almost blinding, and absolutely impossible to look away from.

His grin widened, and he stifled a chuckle as he remembered DiNozzo making quite a show of false disappointment, pouting and protesting that the teams were unfair. Adi had skipped over to him and promised to be on his team next time, after she and McGee finished winning this game. Ziva, sitting cross-legged in the grass in the role of referee, had laughed so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. Gibbs' smile faded slightly. It was almost too much for him sometimes, seeing what had once been for him, imagining what would be for his team. Thirty-five thousand feet up, somewhere between Baltimore-Washington International Airport and Mexico, he looked down at his hands and allowed the dull ache to touch his heart.

"Miss someone?" The question startled the retired Special Agent out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find the gray-haired man next to him watching him curiously.

"Yeah," Gibbs acknowledged gruffly.

"You got family back there in Maryland?" his neighbor asked.

"Yeah," Gibbs said, "I do." He thought about his team sitting around the table in Ziva's dining room last night, Adi's chair pushed right up against Tony's, the young girl snuggled sleepily against her father's side and his hand absently stroking her dark hair as he chuckled through McGee's recount of an undercover op that had gone bizarrely off-kilter. McGee's vibrant tale had the whole team laughing, and Gibbs suspected that he'd only exaggerated a tiny bit in the telling. McGee had blushed furiously, though, when Ducky complimented his story-telling and queried after the next installment of Deep Six, especially when Abby chimed in - _Yes, how are Amy and Agent McGregor doing these days?_

"Kids?" the man in the next seat asked. "Grandkids?"

"Something like that," Gibbs answered.

Sensing that his attempt at conversation was not entirely welcome, the other man added, "Well, hope you make it back to see them soon," and then settled deeper in his seat.

"Me, too," Gibbs muttered under his breath. He looked out the window of the plane, gazing at the tiny houses and cars and fields and streams far below. All that distance between him and the only family he had left.

_You don't have to stay in Mexico, you know, _Ducky had said. The two older men had been sitting on the porch steps, watching McGee and Adi shamelessly celebrate their victory over Tony and Abby. _There are beaches here in Maryland, Jethro. Virginia, too. _

_It's not about the beach, _Gibbs had answered, decidedly not looking at the retired MEs face.

_I see, _Ducky had mused. He pushed to his feet, brushing the seat of his pants off vigorously. _You know, I think over time it would hurt less if you'd just let yourself enjoy it. _With that, Ducky had stepped down from the porch, moving forward to congratulate Adi on her smashing triumph.

As the jet carried him farther and farther away from his team - his family - Gibbs thought that maybe Ducky was right. Even Adi had made it abundantly clear that his visits were too infrequent. _You promised you'd teach me to ride a pony, _she'd reminded him when he'd told her he didn't know when he'd be back. _You PROMISED. _Apparently, her memory was as sharp as those of her parents; it had been over a year since he'd told her that.

And maybe it was time to make good on that promise. Maybe it was time to go back home for good.

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**A/N: Well.......? That's the END! Pretty please won't you leave me a review and let me know what you're thinking? **

**FYI - I do have another NCIS story in the very early stages of development, but I also have yet another project I'm currently working on that may very well dominate much of my writing time - so I have no idea when I'll be publishing my next NCIS fic. If you enjoyed this story, however, you can always set yourself up with an Author Alert so you'll catch the next one... Thanks again, ya'll are the best!  
**


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